


Best Laid Plans

by citrinesunset



Series: Best Laid Plans [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, White Collar Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sara found out she was pregnant with Neal's child, their conflicting desires for the future closed the door on their relationship. Now, almost five years later, Neal is trying to establish himself as a legitimate businessman and a dedicated but long-distance father. When Sara moves back to New York, he sees an opportunity for a closer relationship with his son. But in order to do that, he needs to confront long-buried resentments between him and Sara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://whitecollar-bb.livejournal.com/profile)[**whitecollar_bb**](http://whitecollar-bb.livejournal.com/). Many thanks to [](http://slytheringurrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**slytheringurrl**](http://slytheringurrl.livejournal.com/) for making two great banners for this fic! I encourage you to check out her post [here](http://slytheringurrl.livejournal.com/64170.html).
> 
>  

July 15, 2017

Dear Sara:

When you moved to New York with our son, David Ellis, in May, we had a verbal agreement that I would get to see David on a regular basis.

Since your move, I have only seen David three times. The last time I saw him was on June 12, and you told me that the visit could only last a half hour because David had a dentist appointment.

Subsequent efforts to establish contact have been rebuffed. You have continually offered excuses for why visiting with David would be inconvenient. You have also refused to discuss my interest in longer and more frequent visitation periods. Since July 1, you have been ignoring many of my phone calls.

Since David's birth, you have made it clear that you would prefer to avoid a court-ordered custody or visitation agreement, an arrangement that I have agreed with. However, if we cannot come to a mutually-satisfactory agreement, and I do not see David again by August 1, I will be in contact with my attorney, and I will petition the court for visitation.

Sincerely,  
Neal Caffrey

 

* * *

 

Neal's new apartment didn't have half the view he'd had at June's, but it wasn't bad for the money.

If he'd been willing to dip further into his stash, he could have afforded something bigger. But he was supposed to be a taxpayer now, and he didn't feel like getting audited. Besides, there was the future to think about.

And he'd liquidated enough pieces since his release. Any more, and he'd be risking too much. But after four years of prison, and four more where he needed an explanation for every luxury he had, no one could blame him for wanting nice furniture and a few new suits.

The new place had two bedrooms. He could also have found a nicer place if he'd been willing to settle for just one, but that would defeat the whole point.

He was unpacking a box of books when his phone rang. Looking at the display, he saw it was Sara.

"Neal," she said the moment he answered, "what the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know damn well what I mean."

Neal walked over to the window and gazed out at the skyscrapers that towered over his apartment.

"You got my letter," he said. He'd been expecting this, but he was a little surprised to hear from her so soon. He'd only sent the letter a couple days ago.

"You threatened to take me to _court_. You really think that's going to help us come to an agreement?"

"I think," he said, "that you've been screening my calls and denying me access to my son for the past month."

He heard the sound of traffic in the background. She was calling him on the go, which meant the call couldn't have waited. She'd probably just received the letter.

"You know what?" she said. "You have no idea what I have on my plate right now. Not everything is about you and what you want."

"All right, fine. Then help me understand. Let's meet. I think I'm entitled to that."

For a moment, Sara was quiet, and the only way Neal knew they were still connected was from the sound of cars and people on the other end.

At last, she said, "Okay. Just don't expect me to be in a good mood after getting that letter."

"I just want to talk."

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Lunch tomorrow? We could meet at Pierre's at one, but I have to get right back to work."

"That's perfect," he said. He had an appointment at eleven, but he'd make it work.

Once they hung up, he went back to unpacking, but his movements were robotic. This was progress—Sara was willing to talk to him. No more leaving voicemails and waiting in vain for a response.

He'd only gotten through one box (with four more that were still taped up) when he heard a key in the door.

Mozzie came in with some grocery bags in hand.

"I come bearing food," he said.

"That's great, thanks. I could use a meal here that isn't take-out."

He was anxious to try cooking in his new kitchen. This one had newer fixtures and appliances than what he'd had, and he wanted to try out the glass-top range. Maybe he could get Sara to bring David over for dinner.

Mozzie carried the bags over to the kitchen and set them on the counter. He pulled out a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. "To formally celebrate the new apartment," he said.

"Sounds good. Let me just fold up this box."

Save for the bedrooms and the bathroom, the apartment had an open floor plan. The kitchen was separated from the dining room and living room area by an island.

"Hey," Mozzie asked, "are you going to have a housewarming party?"

"Why? Waiting for an invite?"

"Depending on who else is on the guest list, I might have to send my regrets. You know my stance on partying with government minions."

"No regrets needed. There's not going to be a party. I'm not exactly in the mood right now."

"Oh, let me guess: Sara?"

Neal murmured a confirmation and started to rummage through one of the boxes on the dining room table, looking for his corkscrew.

"You know," Mozzie said, "if you're really worried, I could follow her around a little. Just to make sure David is okay."

Neal found the corkscrew and handed it to Mozzie. "Thanks, but I don't think it'd look good in court if I had a fellow felon stalk my ex."

"You have to be in the system in order to be a felon. And since when is the court involved?"

Neal got a couple wine glasses out of another box and took off the protective paper wrappings. He took them over to the sink to give them a quick wash.

"I don't know. It might be my only choice."

"Okay, as your legal counsel and, more importantly, your friend, I caution you against turning this into _Kramer vs. Kramer_. You're not exactly Dustin Hoffman."

"You're the one who's always told me how important it is for me to be there for David. Are you really going to tell me to back off now?"

"No. I'm saying family court isn't a solution for guys like us."

Neal shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm out of that life now."

"Oh, and do you think a judge is going to recognize that?"

"Why not?" Neal said with a smile. "I'm a businessman, now."

"If you go to court, Sara can make your life hell if she wants. You know that, right?"

"She can make my life hell _now_. But she won't. Because she's a decent person who isn't going to screw over her son's father."

"That's funny, because I thought she already did screw you over when she took David to London."

Neal shrugged. "I let her go, Moz."

"Like you had a choice."

Maybe Mozzie was right. He'd still been on the anklet, then. Maybe he could have fought, but fighting within the system hadn't even occurred to him. If he'd tried to keep Sara from leaving, it would have ruined any chance of happy co-parenting between them. And he assumed most judges wouldn't be that sympathetic to a convict on a work release. But letting her go—letting his son go—had made him the good guy. It made him willing to compromise, to work with Sara. And right now, that had to count for something. Sara couldn't claim he'd ever given her trouble.

Mozzie had blamed him for it at the time. Neal supposed the situation reminded him too much of his own parents. But he'd come around. He seemed to accept, at least, that Neal was doing everything he could—something that Neal himself liked to believe, but was not always confident of.

Neal poured the wine. Raising his glass, he said, "To new beginnings."

 

* * *

 

Neal wasn't exactly sure where things had gone wrong. When Sara had first left for London, things were over between them, but they were still _good_.

If he hadn't been dealing with his father's fall-out, perhaps he would have wondered more about the lack of communication from Sara. As it was, he'd felt her absence like a festering wound, wishing she would call or write but being too proud to take the initiative and make the first move.

After six months, Neal was getting back into a routine. And then Peter called him into his office with a look on his face like someone had died.

Sara was back in town, he'd said. And there was something Neal needed to know.

Part of Neal suspected that, if left to her own devices, Sara may not have told him she was pregnant.

She'd sworn she'd been planning to. She claimed she hadn't wanted to bother him when he was dealing with his father's disappearance and Peter's arrest.

Neal wanted to believe that. To this day, he still trusted there was some truth in it. But six months was a long time to not tell him, and he knew Sara never had any intention of him being her baby's father.

Sara had come over to his place to talk, and told him, "You don't need to be involved. I was planning to raise him myself."

Neal, in his shock and enthusiasm, had interpreted it as self-sacrificing. It was only much later, after David had been born and Sara took him back to England with her, that Neal realized he hadn't read between the lines well enough.

Without realizing it, part of him had expected Sara's pregnancy to reunite them. Instead, it was almost like having David had severed any remaining ties between them.

Sara only stayed in New York for a few months after David was born. Later, she admitted that she'd come back in order to have the baby on U.S. soil.

Neal bode his time. The day his anklet came off, he'd already scheduled a flight.

 

* * *

 

Neal managed to bump his appointment an hour earlier by convincing his client's assistant that it was an honor for _them_ that he was fitting the job into his extremely busy schedule. And after he regretfully informed his client that no, the near-mint condition 1945 baseball card was not real but a reproduction, he hurried to meet Sara.

He made it to the cafe at one o'clock on the dot. Sara was already there, sitting at a table on the patio with a martini.

Neal was slightly out of breath as he sat down. He tried not to show it, breathing through his nose as he flashed a smile. "Drinking on your lunch break?" he asked.

"It's been a busy day. I can't stay too long."

"I want to see David."

Sara set down her glass and crossed her legs. "No beating around the bush, huh?"

"You said we don't have much time. So let's cut right to the point."

"Fine," Sara said. "You know, if you want to play happy family, threatening me isn't the best way to go about it. It doesn't exactly make me more inclined to listen to you."

"I didn't threaten you. I'm just saying I'll do what I need to do to get some answers and see my son. You don't have to like me; it's about what's best for David."

"Have you considered that's part of the problem? Maybe David deserves to have a dad who's not always a few steps away from fleeing the country or winding up back in prison."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Neal said, "You don't think I can be a good father?"

Sara closed her eyes. "No. No, Neal, that's not what I meant. That was harsh. I just meant—"

"That I'm undependable."

"All right, yes. Maybe that's what I mean. David's only four—he needs some consistency. I only moved back here so I could give him more of a home. But he needs time to get into a routine."

"You knew I'd want to see him more often. We agreed—"

"I know. We did. And I'm fine with you seeing David. But David has questions, and you started talking about moving into a place with two bedrooms. It's too fast. It was a lot simpler when you came to visit every few months."

"Yeah," Neal said sharply. "Must have been really convenient. You get to have Dad when you want him, without any commitment. Or compromise."

"That's not—"

"Yeah, it is."

A waiter came over, and Neal ordered a glass of merlot and some pasta, even though with his nerves, he hadn't even been able to stomach the thought of breakfast that morning. Sara didn't order anything.

When the waiter had gone, Neal said, "I'm going to be frank with you. I've been working hard. I have my own business, and I'm moderately successful. But if you're just going to see a criminal when you look at me, nothing I do is going to matter."

Sara smiled bitterly. "Don't try to guilt me, Caffrey. I know when you came to see us during Christmas, you were trying to distance yourself from that heist at the Met."

"A heist that I had nothing to do with."

She sighed. "That's not the point. The point is, I don't want our son to be with you when an FBI agent shows up at your door, or when Mozzie or Alex comes around with some scheme."

"I promise that's not going to happen."

"You're just going to give up your friends?"

Neal didn't respond.

"You have to understand," Sara said, "this is a big adjustment. I've practically raised David myself for four years. And deep down, I know it's a good thing you want to be involved, but you can't rush this. You can't just go from seeing your son on holidays to having him spend the night or weekends with you. And you can't ask me to give him up like that."

"Sara, I'm not asking you to give him up. I'm just asking for what's fair." He leaned across the table. "Look, I've been thinking a lot lately. David's about the same age I was when my father left. It's really tough not to compare myself to him."

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "You're not your father, Neal."

"I know. But if David doesn't know me, then it's not going to matter. I've already missed a lot."

"You were okay with me taking him to London."

Neal was quiet for a moment. Softly, he said, "Yeah. I was."

These days, he sometimes wondered if that had been a mistake. He'd told himself at the time that it just made sense, and that plenty of families lived apart. When it came down to it, he wasn't sure he had a choice. He'd still been on the anklet, and was technically a convict. Sara could have chosen not to let him see David at all, and there might not have been anything he could do about it.

But he'd finished his sentence almost three years ago. He'd spent a substantial amount of time in London since then, living out of a hotel a couple miles from Sara's old London flat. Maybe he should have tried harder to move over there, permanently. He'd been thinking about it when Sara announced she and David were moving back.

"I've visited," Neal said. "A lot. I've given you money for David. You can't say I haven't been involved."

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not, okay? It's just...this is a big change, okay? It's too fast, and I don't know how I feel about it. I've been raising him since he was born."

Neal leaned across the table. "You can't just decide I can't see him."

"I never decided that."

"You've been screening my calls."

"Look," Sara said, raising a hand. "Things have been hectic. I haven't had time to deal with what you're asking for. But okay, you're right—I was wrong not to talk to you. You should be able to see David. But if you want to see him, we need to start slow. He's four—give him a chance to adjust."

"All right. I can live with that. We'll take things slow."

"In that case, maybe we can get together on Saturday. I could bring David to Central Park."

Neal grinned. "Yeah, that's great. I'm free Saturday."

Sara downed the rest of her drink. She took some money out of her purse and laid it on the table. "I've got to run. Talk to you later, Neal."

Neal stayed and finished his lunch, finding that his appetite had returned slightly. For the first time in over a month, he saw progress.

 

* * *

 

The next day was Friday. At seven that night, he arrived at a French bistro not far from the federal building. He was wearing his best navy suit and a burgundy silk tie.

Grinning at the maître d, Neal said, "Hi, I'm meeting my party here. The name is Burke."

While the man checked his list, Elizabeth came over, dressed in a black cocktail dress and heels.

"Neal! I thought I saw you come in. C'mon, we're right over here."

"Nice place," Neal said. He looked up at the crown molding. "I mean it, though, I would have been glad to have you guys at my new apartment."

Elizabeth smiled and touched his arm. "I know. But you're just getting moved in, and the last thing you need right now is to worry about entertaining us. Besides, this place has the best coq au vin in Manhattan."

"Mm. Then I look forward to trying it."

The party had a long table in the back. Peter was sitting on the bench against the wall, right in the middle. It was a small party, mostly folks from the FBI. Hughes, Diana, and Jones were there, along with a few others who had joined the white collar division after Neal had left.

Peter looked up and smiled when Elizabeth brought Neal over.

"Hey, there you are. Have a seat."

Elizabeth returned to her place next to Peter, and Neal took a seat across from them.

"Sorry if I'm late," he said.

"Oh, you're not," Elizabeth said. "We just got here, ourselves."

Looking at Peter, Neal said, "So, congratulations. How does it feel to be at the top of the totem pole?"

"Well," Peter said, "I'm not exactly at the top. But it's certainly an honor."

Neal handed Peter the gift bag he'd brought. Peter held it up and then set it in between himself and Elizabeth.

"You didn't need to get me anything," Peter said.

"It's just a small token."

He'd gotten Peter some coffee, the type that Peter would never purchase for himself. He'd also given him an engraved tie clip. He doubted Peter would wear it, but now that Peter was what Mozzie referred to as the "Uber Suit," he deserved something nice.

Neal hadn't seen Jones or Diana in a while, though he hadn't been a stranger, either. There was something strange about running into them these days. Since his release, he'd been vocally enthusiastic about going legit, and he'd put on a good appearance of it. But even he wasn't sure at times if it was real or not. In the last few years, there had been no art heists and no new counterfeit bonds. But Neal's idea of crime was perhaps looser than other people's. If he'd been truly honest, maybe he would have given away all the profits he'd made from his previous career. Perhaps he would have tried to make new friends. But his old life would always be a part of him. And these days, he didn't have a tracking anklet to give him an alibi.

Perhaps he'd naively expected things to come together more cleanly after his sentence ended.

Things were coming together well for Peter.

After the waiter brought a bottle of red wine, Neal lifted his glass, grinned, and said, "To Peter Burke, the new assistant director of the white collar division."

Everyone lifted their glasses and joined in the toast.

Peter beamed and looked down modestly.

Conversation over dinner was mild and light. There was little discussion of work, though Neal wouldn't have minded some news about what was going on.

Later, after the others had left, Neal joined Peter on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Elizabeth was still inside, settling the bill.

The night was unusually mild for July, with a light breeze. Peter had taken off his jacket and had it draped over his arm.

"So," Neal asked, "any news on who's going to get your old job?"

"It's not official yet...but I've given Diana a strong recommendation."

"Nice."

"They might think she's a little young. But she has a good record, and I have a lot of say in choosing my replacement. Jones would have been a stronger contender, but he's happy over in organized crime now."

"Big accomplishment. For both of you."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah...Diana will be perfect. Me? I dunno. You know how I like being out in the field. But it's an honor, and it'll be good for Elizabeth. I know she worries about me. And let's face it—I'm not as young as I used to be."

"I don't think you need to worry about retirement just yet."

"No, I know. It feels like such a long ways off. But it's not _that_ long." Peter looked at him. "Hey, any luck with Sara?"

Neal shrugged. "I talked to her yesterday, and we're going to meet up this weekend. With David." He paused, unsure how much he should divulge. "I sent her a letter, saying I'd seek legal action if she didn't let me see him. Mozzie disagreed."

He looked at Peter for a reaction, but he didn't show one.

"You have the right to seek visitation."

"I know. Sara made it sound like I haven't been involved enough. Maybe she's right...."

"You've _tried_ , that's what counts. Look, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I know that last year of your sentence was tough, knowing David was in London and that you couldn't go there. And I know you were trying to move over there."

Neal scoffed. "Yeah. The UK isn't crazy about giving Neal Caffrey, convicted bond forger, a visa."

"Well, now you don't have to worry about it anymore. This good. You've got a life here, and now David will be here. How's the business going, by the way?"

"Busy. Can't complain."

"Great, great. Listen, things are in transition right now, and I can't make any promises, but how would you feel about coming back to the FBI as a consultant?"

"I don't know, Peter, I've got my business, and—"

"It'd just be on a case-to-case basis. You could still do your authenticating."

Neal thought for a moment. "I don't know if I could go undercover again. Not that almost getting shot isn't fun, but you know, I have David to think about."

"No, I get that. You wouldn't have to go undercover. If you go out in the field, it'd just be visits to museums, crime scenes."

Neal nodded. "I'll think about it."

Peter had offered to push for Neal to be made a proper consultant when his sentence ended, but Neal had been anxious to prove that he could make it on his own. A real, legit businessman. He'd needed some space.

He missed the FBI, though. And it would be a good chance to make extra money.

When Elizabeth came out, Neal said goodnight to them and hailed a cab. When he gave the driver his address, he felt an uncontrollable wave of pride and excitement at having his own place.

Not that he didn't miss June much of the time. When she'd offered to let him stay around after his sentence ended, it'd been easy to agree.

But it was good to feel _established_. He'd always wanted to stay in New York, and now the arrangement felt permanent. He put off any permanence for a long time when he still thought he'd find a way to move to England to be closer to David. In the last six months, he'd even been looking into trying his luck with France or Ireland.

Maybe tomorrow, he would start shopping for kids' furniture for the spare bedroom. He wasn't sure when David would be able to use it, but at least everything would be ready for him when he could.

 

* * *

 

Later, as Neal was getting ready for bed, Sara called and she'd said she'd bring David to the Diana Ross Playground at Central Park at two-thirty. Neal offered to bring a picnic lunch.

The next day, Neal arrived at Central Park early. He found the playground and waited at the entrance. In one hand, he held a picnic basket.

He saw Sara and David when they were still just vague figures coming up the footpath. Sara was wearing a red dress and was holding David's hand. When they got close, Neal crouched down.

"Hey, kiddo! Long time no see! Let me get a look at you."

Sara released David's hand, and he walked over to Neal. It'd only been a month since Neal last saw him, but he could've sworn David had grown. At least his hair had. The breeze blew his curly brown hair into his face.

Neal had gone a year without seeing his son when he was still on the anklet. But somehow, the past month had felt almost as long.

Neal set down the picnic basket and wrapped his arms around David's small body. David didn't return the hug, and when Neal let go of him, he cocked his head at Neal and looked at him cautiously.

It was hard not to be hurt. But it was like this every time Neal saw him after an extended absence.

David was carrying a Batman action figure in one hand. Neal looked at it and smiled.

"You like Batman?"

David nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Do you like any other superheroes?"

"No. I like Batman."

"David's obsessed with Batman," Sara said, walking over. "Aren't you?" She ruffled David's hair and he looked up at her, smiling.

Looking up at Sara, Neal said, "I brought lunch. I don't know what David likes...."

"He's not picky. Thankfully." To David, she said, "What do you say? You want to eat some lunch?"

David looked at the playground equipment. "I wanna go on the slide."

"You can play after you eat."

David look disappointed, and didn't take his eyes off the playground. But he let Sara take his hand and lead him over to a bench.

Neal sat down on David's other side and unpacked the picnic basket.

He'd decided to keep it simple with sandwiches. David ate his without complaint, but he nibbled at his sandwich slowly, keeping one eye on the playground at all times.

"Why don't you tell Daddy what you did this morning?" Sara said with strained cheerfulness.

David took a drink from one of the water bottles Neal had brought. Some water dribbled down his shirt.

"I got a fish!" he said, smiling broadly.

"Oh yeah?" Neal said.

"Mm-hm. Her name is Mirabelle."

"I bet she's a nice fish. Are you going to help your mom take care of her?"

David nodded. "Yep. I'm going to feed her every day. 'Cause if we don't feed her, she'll die."

"He's really excited," Sara said. "He likes dogs, but I thought a fish was a better choice for our lifestyle right now. And David likes her. He named her after a character in this book he likes."

David set down the last bit of his sandwich and started to rummage around in Sara's purse.

"Hey," she said, "what are you doing?"

"I want the Joker."

"All right. Just a sec...." She picked up her purse and pulled out a Joker action figure.

Neal caught a whiff of sandalwood. "The Joker smells nice."

"That's because _someone_ gave him a bath in my perfume." She looked down at David. "Isn't that right, mister?"

David giggled.

Sara tapped David on the shoulder. "C'mon, set the toys down until you're done eating."

"I'm done now."

"You sure? Because it might be a couple hours before we can get you anything else to eat."

"I'm full, and I wanna play."

"Okay, then go on." She patted David on the shoulder.

David set his action figures aside and ran off in the direction of the play equipment. Neal sat back and watched him climb on one of the structures.

"He's getting big," Neal said.

"You're telling me. And he has so much energy, it's like he runs on jet fuel. You don't know what you're getting into."

Neal looked at her sideways. "You don't think I can handle my own son?"

Sara smiled bitterly. "Don't put words in my mouth, Neal. No, what I'm saying is I think you could handle your son just fine if you spent more than the occasional holiday and play date with him. You haven't had to deal with tantrums, or waking up to find him pouring your perfume into bowls to give his action figures _baths_."

"Hey, I recall witnessing a few tantrums."

"And then you got to go back to your hotel for the night."

Neal faced forward, watching his son. Now, David was going down a metal slide. He landed on the ground, straightened his shirt, and ran back to the ladder so he could go down again.

"You can't blame me for the fact that _you_ didn't want me involved."

"I don't. I've never blamed you for anything. But I've raised him. He's my family."

"You keep making it sound like I'm going to take him from you. I'm not."

"I know that. But he's only four. You'll just have to forgive me for not wanting to lose time with him."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Oh, like the time I've lost?"

"I just want you to realize what you're asking for. And you can't expect David to want to spend a lot of time with you. He doesn't understand any of this."

"Like you said, he's four. He doesn't know what's best."

It wasn't like Neal couldn't see what she meant, on some level. And he wasn't heartless. Sara had been David's primary caregiver since he was born. Despite any efforts Neal had made, David had been _hers_.

But he didn't believe her warning about David. David was young, and kids adjusted quickly.

And David was brave. Neal could see it now, watching how he scrambled up the ladder to the slide and slid down the glinting metal without hesitation. As soon as he reached the bottom, landing in the soft ground, he was up on his feet and running again.

He reminded Neal of himself, though some of that may have been the physical resemblance. The similarity wasn't unequivocally good, and it occurred to Neal that maybe that was part of Sara's problem. Maybe she believed that exposure to Neal would bring out something in David that would otherwise remain dormant.

But if it was in David's genes...no, of course it wasn't. Neal was still willing, on at least one level, to believe that he was his father's son. But he could never believe the same of David. It was a double-standard, but he knew David was a good kid, who was going to grow up to be a good man. All he could feel when he looked at him was pride.

David played for twenty minutes. He was still climbing on the equipment when Sara looked at her watch.

"We need to go soon," she said. "I have to get David home."

Neal wanted to protest. He'd barely had a chance to see David, or talk to him. He looked at David, who was trying to climb up into a wooden tower.

"Five minutes? I want to say goodbye to him."

"All right."

Neal got up and made his way over to David.

"You want a boost?"

David looked over his shoulder. "Okay."

Neal lifted David under the arms and hoisted him up. David's body felt small and fragile but surprisingly heavy. When he set him inside the tower, David stood at eye-level with him.

"I'm glad we got to spend some time together," Neal said. "Now that you and your mom live here, we can do this a lot more. Would you like that?"

David bit his lip, and then nodded.

From the bench, Sara called out, "David, it's time to go home."

David didn't respond, but stepped back into the tower and pouted. A small part of Neal was glad for the sign of resistance. He thought about suggesting that Sara go and leave David here with him. Just for another hour.

But he knew that was pushing it.

"Come on," Neal said softly, "you heard your mom. It's time for you to go home."

David whined when Neal reached into the tower and picked him up. He struggled for a second, and when he kicked his legs one of his feet connected with Neal's ribs hard enough to sting. But after a second, he relaxed.

Neal walked slowly, not particularly wanting to put David down. When they reached Sara, he let him down onto the ground.

"That was fun," Sara said to David with a note of forced cheer in her voice. "You think you'll be able to take a nap now that you burned off all that energy?"

"No."

Sara ruffled David's hair and looked at Neal. The long-suffering look on her face only lasted a second before it melted away.

"When can we do this again?" Neal asked. He'd already determined that he wouldn't leave today without an answer. He was done putting so much implicit trust in Sara's cooperation.

"I'll have to look at my schedule. We could probably come here again next Saturday."

Neal thought for a moment. The playground was nice, but he'd hoped for more variety.

"Why don't you bring David over to my place for dinner? I'll make lasagna."

Sara cocked her head. She appeared to consider it.

"All right," she said, finally. "We can do that."

"That's great. You can see my new apartment."

"I'll look forward to it. Now—" she looked down at David and squeezed his hand "—it's time for me and a certain someone to get going. David, can you say goodbye to Daddy?"

David used his free hand to wave at Neal. "Bye."

Neal crouched down. "I'll see you next week, okay, David?"

David nodded. Neal gave his shoulder a small squeeze.

When Neal stood up, Sara gave him a rushed goodbye and left, leading David by the hand. As they walked down the path, David looked over his shoulder at Neal. Neal waved and leaned against the wall surrounding the playground until Sara and David disappeared from sight.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Neal unpacking some more things at home when Elizabeth called and asked if she could come by. She showed up a half-hour later with an insulated dish and a gift-wrapped box.

"I brought you a little housewarming present," she said. "And some homemade gelato."

"You shouldn't have. Thank you."

"I wanted to. I'd wanted to come by sooner, but with Peter's promotion...."

"I understand. You've had a lot on your plate." He set the present on the table and put the gelato in the freezer. "I'm sure you're very happy for him,"

"I am. I know it wasn't a simple decision. You know how much Peter loved his old job. But he really believes he can do a lot of good in his new position. He knows how important strong leadership is. He can do that."

"He offered me a consulting job. Part-time."

"So I heard. Do you think you'll do it?"

"I'm considering it. Why don't you have a seat? I can put on some coffee."

"I'll only stay a few minutes. I have a little time to kill before a two o'clock appointment."

She sat at the dining room table. Neal started up the coffee machine and took a seat diagonally from her.

For a few minutes, they talked about Elizabeth's work. At two, she was going to an event venue to meet with the management, and she was organizing a gallery opening for the following week.

When the coffee was finished, he poured two mugs and gave one to Elizabeth.

"Cream or sugar?" he asked.

"A little sugar, if you don't mind."

Neal got the sugar out of the cupboard and rejoined her at the table.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and said, "So...Peter says you're reconnecting with Sara and David."

"Yeah," Neal said, nodding. "We had lunch in Central Park on Saturday. David got to play. It was nice."

"I know you've been frustrated that you guys aren't on the same page. I don't want to impose, but Peter did mention you were thinking of going to court."

"Don't worry—it wasn't exactly a secret. I don't think it's going to be necessary, though. I think I've made myself clear, and Sara's willing to let me see him."

Elizabeth frowned. "Even if that's the case, it might not be such a bad idea."

"What? Going to court?"

She shrugged. "Well, yeah. Look, I know you're not exactly used to handling things through the legal system. And I know you wanted to keep things flexible. But it wouldn't hurt to have some assurances. And haven't you been giving Sara child support for a while now?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not official—"

"Maybe it _should_ be. If this is important to you, it's only going to help to have a record of everything you do."

Neal hadn't considered it like that. Elizabeth was right—he wasn't used to handling stuff through the system. In his experience, the "system" was more of a hindrance than anything else. And child custody was outside his area of expertise.

"I don't know, maybe you have a point." He looked down at his cup of coffee. "I'm just not sure if going to court is the best idea. To be honest, when I wrote that letter to Sara, I was counting on her wanting to avoid things coming to that. I'm not so sure a judge is going to feel favorably toward me."

"Because of your past?"

Neal raised his eyebrows.

"I don't think you need to worry. These days, the courts want kids to have relationships with their parents. They'll look at you and see a non-violent ex-con who has a good job, a good apartment, and who loves his son very much."

Neal wasn't convinced. He would have felt better hearing this from Peter. As much as he trusted Elizabeth, he wasn't sure if she understood what he was facing. Peter did, but Neal would never bring himself to voice these fears to Peter.

A small part of him, that he barely dared to acknowledge, wondered if Peter would tell him that his fears were real.

When Elizabeth left, Neal unwrapped her gift. It was a small pewter picture frame.

Neal set it aside and got out the box that contained his photographs. He had a couple that he thought might look good in the frame.

As he took out the photos, he found something at the bottom of box. It was him, sitting in a chair in a hospital room. His face was sleep-deprived but elated, and he cradled a newborn David in his arms. Sara wasn't visible in the picture, but Neal remembered that she'd been a few feet away, resting after her C-section. It was the first time Neal had seen David.

A few hours after the photo was taken, he and Sara signed the papers establishing David's paternity. Without that, Neal would be having a much harder time now. But on that day, they'd been too happy and relieved to think much about the future.

Neal spent a minute looking at the photo and remembering how hopeful that day had been. Then he carefully laid it back in the box.

 

* * *

 

When Sara and David came over on Saturday, Neal made lasagna and a handmade green salad. The lasagna was in the oven when they arrived.

"You'll have to excuse me," Sara said as he answered the door. "I just got out of work an hour ago. I barely had time to swing by my place to pick David up from the sitter."

She did look a bit frazzled. Her hair was windswept and her linen dress was wrinkled.

"Working on a Saturday?"

"Art thieves work on the weekend, so I have to, too. Besides, I swear Sterling Bosch's New York office has been entirely re-staffed since I last worked there. I have several years' seniority over most of those people, but guess who gets treated like the new person?" She waved a hand. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be a good guest."

David whined and tugged on Sara's hand. "Mommy! I have to _go_."

"I know, I know." Looking at Neal, she said, "Mind if we use your bathroom?"

"Not at all. It's just over there."

Sara took David to the bathroom, and Neal returned to the small kitchen area to check on the lasagna.

When they emerged a few minutes later, Neal was taking the lasagna out of the oven. He heard David running somewhere behind him.

"What's that?" David said.

Before Neal could look over his shoulder, Sara said, "No, no, no. Don't touch."

Neal set the lasagna on a trivet and turned around to look. David had discovered his easel, where he'd started a painting. Sara was holding his wrist. David was stretching his arm, trying to reach for the canvas.

"It's pretty!" David said.

"I know, but paintings are for looking at. Not touching."

She said the last bit firmly, and Neal frowned. Something about her tone made him wonder if David had a habit of touching things he wasn't supposed to.

He would need to keep an eye on that, whenever he had David here by himself. Neal had kept childproofing in mind, but truthfully, he'd assumed that David would be pretty harmless by now. Wasn't it just toddlers you had to worry about?

He decided not to say anything. Sara appeared to have a close eye on David.

"Dinner's ready," he said.

Sara steered David toward the table. "You hear that?" she said. "It's time for dinner."

As David climbed onto one of the dining room chairs, he asked, "Whose house is this?"

"I told you," Sara said. "It's your daddy's apartment."

"What are we eating?"

Neal spoke up. "We're having lasagna." He looked over at the table and saw that David's head and shoulders were just visible above the edge of the table. Frowning, he asked Sara, "Do you want me to get him something to sit on?"

"That'd be great."

He served the food first. He wasn't sure how much David could eat, so he guessed. For that matter, he hoped David could handle the salad okay. Would he be able to chew the carrots? They were shredded, so Neal couldn't imagine it would be an issue. But he wondered if he should have consulted Sara about the menu.

After the put the plates and bowls on the table, he went in search of something to boost David up. He found a large book, and Sara lifted David up under his arms so Neal could place it on his chair.

"There," Neal said, "that better?"

David nodded. Sara took her seat beside him.

Neal went to grab a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine, and when he returned, David was sticking his hand in his salad. Sara noticed, and touched his hand.

"We don't eat our salad like that," she said. "Use your fork, and wait until your dad joins us."

"But I want the purple stuff."

"The purple stuff is cabbage. You can get it with your fork."

Neal joined them at the table. He sat at the head, with Sara to his left. He watched while Sara helped David with his food. She put dressing on his salad, cut his lasagna into small, child-sized bites, and murmured instructions to him as she did so.

"Careful," she said. "It's hot. Just take a little bite."

David held his fork in his fist and took a bite of lasagna.

"How is it?" Neal asked.

"I like it," David said, squirming when Sara tried to wipe some tomato sauce off his chin.

"So, David, have you done a lot of fun things this summer?"

David nodded. "Uh huh. I got my fish. We went to a museum. And I'm learning how to swim!"

Looking at Sara, he asked, "Are you teaching him?"

"Oh, no. I am not a teacher. There's a class at the Y."

Leaning across the table, Neal smiled at David and said, "You know, I like swimming. Maybe you and I could go to the pool sometime. Are you going to start school soon?"

"Uh huh! I'm going to preschool!"

Sara rubbed his back. "Yeah, that's right. He got accepted to the Durant Academy."

"Oh, yeah?" Neal asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's a good school."

"It's definitely one of the better ones. I really wanted a Montessori school, but this one is closer to our new place. They have kindergarten, too."

"Where is he going now, when you're at work?"

"There's a girl who comes during the day. She's an NYU student on break."

"That's great you found a nanny already."

"She's not a _nanny_. Just a babysitter."

"If she comes over every day, that sounds like a nanny to me."

"She's not a nanny. She's a full-time babysitter. Short-term. When she goes back to NYU in August, she's not going to be able to help out as much. But David will be starting school then."

"What about when he gets out in the afternoon? Do you have someone to watch him?"

Neal didn't know that much about preschool, but he was pretty sure most programs let out earlier than Sara got off work.

Sara's smile tensed, as though she had an idea where he was going with this. "I'll figure something out."

"Because you know, I could pick him up from school and watch him. It wouldn't be a problem."

"We'll see."

Her tone was firm, but not unkind. Neal could tell she didn't want to discuss it now, and he could live with that. It was enough to raise the suggestion.

"So," Sara said, "I spoke to Peter last week. I called to congratulate him on his promotion. He tells me your business is doing well. That's wonderful."

"It is. Thanks."

"Now, is it a business, or are you a freelancer?"

"It's a business now. Caffrey Consulting. I'm a taxpaying businessman."

"And I imagine you didn't have a lot of experience with taxes."

That was one way of putting it. The first year of trying to file taxes as a freelancer, Neal had ended up making Peter come over to help.

"Well, not exactly. But it's actually easier now that I have my business set up. And I can write off a lot in cab fares. About eighty percent of my job is spent going to and from clients."

Sara started to respond, and then stopped as David reached for her wine glass.

Moving it out of his reach, she said, "What is it? You have plenty of water."

He pointed at her glass. "I want that."

"No, baby. This is wine. It's for grown-ups."

"But I wanna try it."

"I said no."

David whined and made a sobbing sound, though Neal could tell that he wasn't actually crying. Sara took a deep breath.

"Angel said he never took a nap today. I think he might be getting restless."

Neal looked at David's plate. He'd eaten most of his lasagna and some of the salad.

"Would you guys like dessert? I have cupcakes."

David's head shot up. "I want one!"

"What's the magic word?" Sara asked.

"Please!"

Neal smiled. "Then you can have one. I got chocolate. Do you like chocolate?"

David nodded excitedly.

David devoured his cupcake, and Sara got a damp paper towel from the kitchen to wipe his face with.

"I should be getting him home," she said.

"Is it almost his bedtime?" Neal looked at his watch. It was nearly eight.

Sara laughed. "David's a night owl. I'm lucky if I can get him in bed before ten. I don't know how we're going to do it when school starts. But since he didn't take a nap today, maybe he'll be tired."

"Nope," David said. He sounded proud of himself.

Realizing David would be going soon, Neal crouched down and gave him a hug. This time, David hugged back. When Neal stood up again, Sara was getting her purse from where she'd set it in the living room.

"This was nice," she said. "Thank you for having us."

"We should do it again."

"Actually...why don't you come to our place? We could do it in a week or two."

"I thought you couldn't cook."

He wanted to ask her why she was inviting him now. He'd gone past her new house in a cab a few times, once right after she and David moved in and then after she stopped taking his calls. Now, she was doing more than she needed to and he wasn't sure if he should trust her.

She smiled. "I've picked up a few tricks since we were together. And you could bring dessert."

"Yeah, I could do that."

"All right. Then I'll give you a call?"

"Anytime."

After Neal shut the door behind them, he started cleaning up. He put away the leftover lasagna, washed the dishes, and then headed into the bedroom.

He hadn't anticipated how nice it would be to have an apartment with separate rooms. He'd never minded living in a studio apartment, but the extra privacy was a welcome change. Peter would tell him that anything was better than a prison cell, and in a way that was true. But Neal had always had high standards.

After loading the dishes in the dishwasher, Neal picked up his cell and gave Peter a call.

"Hello?" Peter said.

"Hey, this a good time?"

"It's fine. What did you need?"

"I've been thinking more. About the consultant position."

"Oh, yeah?" Peter asked, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. If the offer's still on the table, I'd like to do it."

The extra money would help. Besides, Neal missed the FBI. Some days, he wondered if it had been a mistake not to stick around after his sentence ended.

"How about we have lunch? You, me, and Diana. I know Diana would like to have you on board, too."

"You've talked to her?"

"Yeah, she thinks it's a great idea. Anyway, her promotion is official now. It might be a couple weeks before she's ready to talk to you. But if you want to do it, we'd love to have you on board."

"Thanks, Peter."

After he hung up, Neal wondered what it would be like to work with Diana. He'd worked with her before, of course. But now that Peter had moved up, things would be different.

But then, everything had changed, and everyone. No one, perhaps, more than Neal himself.

* * *

 

Sara's new house wasn't far from her previous one. Neal arrived at six-thirty on a Friday night, carrying a paper bag with a German chocolate cake inside.

He hoped he'd have enough time before dinner to spend time with David.

He rang the doorbell and looked up and down the street while he waited. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

He expected to see Sara, but instead, a short, young woman with long black hair opened the door. She was wearing pink shorts and a white t-shirt with 'Angel' across it in jeweled letters.

"Hey," she said, "you must be David's dad. Come on in."

"Let me guess—you must be Angel."

"That's right. I'm keeping an eye on David while Sara tries to cook."

Neal followed her inside. She led him to the kitchen, where he could smell food cooking.

"David's dad is here," Angel said.

Sara was standing at the stove, stirring a pot. She looked at them over her shoulder and said, "Hey. Angel, did you want to stay for dinner?"

"Thanks," she said, "but I should get home. Now that he's here, do you mind if I take off?"

"No, not at all. You don't mind keeping an eye on David for me, do you, Neal?"

"No," Neal said. "It'd be great to spend some time with him before dinner."

Angel turned around and headed back toward the front of the house. Neal put the bag with the cake on the kitchen counter and followed Angel to the living room. When he got there, he found David on his hands and knees playing with some toy cars.

Angel crouched down in front of him. "Hey, Monster, I have to go home, so this is goodnight, okay?"

David looked up at her. With a whine, he said, "No...you were supposed to play Batman with me."

"It'll have to wait 'til Monday. It's almost dinner and your dad's here. Maybe he'll play Batman with you."

With that, David noticed Neal. He sat up and fixed his gaze on Neal while Angel grabbed a messenger bag from the sofa.

"Sara tells me you're a student at NYU," Neal said.

"Yeah," she said as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. "I'm a dance major."

From the kitchen, Sara yelled, "Angel, before you go, there's some cash for you in the table by the door."

"Thanks," Angel yelled back. "I'll see you Monday."

She walked past Neal and over to the front door. There was a small end table beside the door that had a single drawer, and she opened it to reveal a wad of bills.

Angel turned to Neal and smiled. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"I'm sure I'll be back. Stay safe getting home."

"Thanks."

After she left, Neal returned to the living room. He looked around. It was sparsely decorated, but looked cluttered thanks to the large number of toys spread out on the rug by the sofa. There was a plastic tub lying on its side, with a cascade of toy cars spilling out.

By the window was a large aquarium with a single goldfish swimming back and forth.

He walked over to where David was playing and crouched down.

"Hey there. What are you playing?"

"Car chase," David said. He looked up. "Do you want to play Batman?"

Neal sat down and crossed his legs. "That sounds fun."

David pushed his cars aside and grabbed a couple action figures. He held onto the Batman one and handed the sandalwood-scented Joker to Neal.

"Here. You be the Joker, and I'll be Batman."

"Okay. What are we playing?"

"The joker is stealing signs. Batman's gonna stop him."

"Signs, huh? What kind of signs?"

"Road signs."

"That isn't good. Road signs are important."

David nodded solemnly. "Yeah. If you don't have them, people crash. Now come on—I want to play."

"Okay." Neal cleared his throat and wiggled the action figure. "You can't stop me, Batman. By tomorrow, I'll have every sign in Gotham."

"Oh no you won't! I'm Batman!"

David clashed his action figure against Neal's. He pressed Batman's head against the Joker's neck.

In his normal voice, Neal asked, "What's Batman doing now? Kissing him?"

David giggled and wrinkled his nose. "No! He's biing the Joker in the neck. He's a vampire."

"I didn't know Batman was a vampire."

"Yep. That's why he only goes out at night."

Neal was pretty sure that Bruce Wayne went out during the daytime, but he didn't argue with David.

Sara appeared in the doorway to the living room. Poking her head in, she said, "Hey, you guys. Dinner's ready."

David dropped his action figure and clambered to his feet. He ran to the doorway and Sara halted him with a hand to his shoulder.

"And after we eat," she said, "I want you to pick up your toys. Can you do that?"

David nodded.

"Now let's go wash your hands."

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the small dining room. Sara had made jambalaya.

"This looks great," Neal said. "I guess you were telling the truth when you said you said you learned how to cook."

"Oh, so you doubted me, huh?"

"Hey, you were the one who downplayed your abilities."

"Well, I don't mind living on takeout, but I'm hoping if I cook, it'll rub off on David and he'll be more competent in the kitchen than I am."

"Preparing to have someone cook you meals in your elder years?"

"Oh, no," she said with a smile. "I'm hoping he can start when he's at least thirteen."

Neal took a bite of his food. It wasn't bad, but the rice was rubbery and overcooked, and the seasoning was too strong.

"This is great," he said. "You're certainly learning."

Sara cocked her head. "You don't have to pretend," she said with a laugh. "I know it's not exactly five-star restaurant fare."

"It's a great effort. Is that better?"

"Much."

David had no complaints about Sara's cooking. He seemed to inhale his food.

When they were finished with the main course, Sara brought in the cake Neal had provided.

After dinner, they headed into the living room. Sara prodded David to put his toys back in the plastic tub on the floor.

To Neal, she said, "Do you have time to stay? I need to give David a bath, but I was hoping we could talk afterward."

Neal had an appointment in the morning, but it was still early. He had a few hours yet before he needed to get home.

"No problem," he said.

Sara took David upstairs. Neal walked around the living room, taking everything in. There was a bookshelf in the corner that held a mixture of children's books and books on art and antiquities. There were pictures on the fireplace mantle, mostly of David.

Finally, Neal settled in on the sofa and started to surf the internet on his phone.

After about a half hour had passed, he heard the sound of small, bare feet on the stairs behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw David bounding downstairs, dressed in his pajamas. His hair was wet.

He ran around to the front of the sofa and climbed up.

"I took a bath!" he said.

Neal touched his damp hair. "Yeah, I see that."

"Will you come back and play with me?"

"Definitely."

David pouted. "You never came over when I was in London."

David snuggled up to Neal. Neal stroked his arm.

"I saw you at Christmas, remember?"

"That was _ages_ ago."

"Yeah," Neal said, frowning. "It was, I know. I wanted to stay longer."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Well, because when you go to another country, you have to get permission to stay there. I wanted to move to London, but it was taking a long time to get permission."

"Why was it taking long?"

Neal didn't often find himself without an answer, but he did now. He'd always known that, eventually, he would have to explain some things to David. At the very least, David deserved it. Neal knew what it was like to grow up believing a lie.

But actually _being_ honest was a different matter entirely.

Before he could come up with an answer, Sara saved him. As she came down the stairs, she showed no sign of having overheard their conversation.

"I _thought_ there was a little boy down here who ran away," she said.

David giggled.

"Do you want to say goodnight to your daddy?"

"But it's too early to go to bed."

"Well, you can play or read upstairs. Daddy and I need some time to chat."

"Okay...." David grumbled. He climbed off the sofa and ran over to the plastic tub. The Batman figure was sitting on top, and he grabbed it before running over to Sara.

She took his hand and led him upstairs. A few minutes later, she returned.

"Thanks for waiting."

"No problem. You wanted to talk about something?"

Sara joined him on the sofa. She looked down at her knees.

"Nothing in particular. I just thought, since you're here, we should talk."

Neal nodded. "Is it about why you're suddenly being so accommodating?"

She looked at him sharply. "I thought this is what you wanted. Family dinners. Playing with your son."

"It is. I'm just questioning this sudden reversal."

Sara shrugged. "Okay. Maybe I can admit I was unfair before. Are you happy?"

"Is this an apology?"

Closing her eyes, she said, "I don't know, I guess it is. It's just...it's been hard for me. I realize it's better for David if you're in his life. I know it's ideal. But you have to understand—I never planned to have a child with you."

"Well, that's what happened."

"I know it is. But I told myself you wouldn't want to be tied down. I thought I could do it, raise David on my own."

"If you didn't want David to have another parent, you could have used a sperm donor."

"I know, okay?" She shook her head. "I'll be honest. When I got pregnant, I thought about not keeping it. But...I always knew I wanted to have a kid someday, and there I was, with a chance to have one. I couldn't help but think, what if that was my only chance? And I love David. I've never regretted having him."

"I always wanted kids, too."

"I didn't know that, at the time."

"You convinced yourself I didn't. To make it easier."

"Not intentionally, but can you blame me? It seemed easier that way. Now...I guess I haven't been realistic. I had this idea of what I wanted my life to be like. What I wanted David's childhood to be like. I wish I could say I have a good handle on things, but I don't."

Looking at her, Neal couldn't help but feel sympathy. His anger and frustration started to melt away. For the first time, he noticed that Sara looked tired. Her makeup didn't quite conceal the bags under her eyes.

"You're clearly doing a great job," Neal said. "David is a wonderful kid. You should be proud."

She took a deep breath. "Thank you. And I know you can be a good father, if I give you a chance."

"That's all I want. A chance. I want you to know you can depend on me."

Nodding, she said, "Would you like some coffee?"

"That'd be great."

He followed her to the kitchen. While she started the coffee maker, he looked around the kitchen. The house was old, and solid.

"This is a great place," Neal said.

"Thanks. It's a little out of my budget, but I wanted a house. The move was sort of sudden, so I'm lucky I found this place."

"Why _did_ you decide to move back to New York?"

Sara got a couple coffee mugs out of a cabinet and set them on the counter.

"I've been telling everyone that it's because I missed the city, and because I decided I wanted to raise David in the city. And that's true."

"But?"

She sighed. "Look, I wasn't lying when I said you don't know what's been going on in my life. The job in London wasn't working. I tried, I did. But I know when it's time to cut my losses."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, I preferred my old job, anyway. I just hate the gossip around the office. I didn't get demoted, but that's how some people see it."

The coffee finished brewing, and Sara poured two mugs. Neal sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, and Sara brought the coffee over.

For a while, they drank in silence. It was nice, Neal realized, to spend time with her like this. He couldn't remember the last time they were in a room together and there wasn't an air of conflict hanging over them.

"But your job is going well?" Sara asked after a while.

"It is, yeah."

"I mentioned that David was starting pre-school this fall," she said, hesitantly. "The Durant is a great school, and I want David to have the best I can give him. I can afford it, but I'll be honest: it's not cheap. If you were willing to help out...."

Neal frowned. He'd already given Sara a lot of money for David, without being asked. But he didn't know what their living expenses had been like, and Sara was right—David deserved the best. Neal had loved school as a child, but he'd never had the chance to excel as much as he could have. Maybe things could be different for David.

The extra expense concerned him, though. He was far from impoverished, but he wasn't making much more than enough to cover his bills.

But with the promise of extra work from the FBI, he thought he could do it.

"All right," he said, "I can do that."

Sara looked relieved, and Neal felt a pang of cynicism. Was this why she'd invited him over, and opened up to him? Had she realized she needed his help with David's education?

As he finished his coffee, he said, "I should really get heading out. I have an early appointment in the morning."

"Okay. Yeah, I should check on David."

"Do you mind if I say goodnight?"

"No, not at all."

They went upstairs to a narrow hallway. David's door was only partly closed, and there was warm light coming from inside. David was curled up in bed, but was still awake and playing with his Batman figure and another action figure that was missing a head.

Sara walked over to him and said, "What happened to Iron Man's head?"

"I dunno," David said.

Sara just gave him an exasperated sigh.

Neal walked over to David's bed and crouched down. Suddenly, he didn't want to go home. He wanted to stay right here, rooted in this spot until David fell asleep.

But instead, he brushed David's hair out of his eyes and said goodnight.  



	2. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sara found out she was pregnant with Neal's child, their conflicting desires for the future closed the door on their relationship. Now, almost five years later, Neal is trying to establish himself as a legitimate businessman and a dedicated but long-distance father. When Sara moves back to New York, he sees an opportunity for a closer relationship with his son. But in order to do that, he needs to confront long-buried resentments between him and Sara.

The following week, Neal was getting ready to meet Peter and Diana for lunch when his phone rang. Picking it up, he saw it was Sara. He balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder and reached into his closet for a tie.

"Neal," Sara said when he answered, "thank God. Listen, I have a crisis on my hands. I thought I had the day off, but a Matisse was stolen last night, and I've been called in. Angel isn't available, and there's no one else to watch David. I need you to take care of him for a few hours."

He almost dropped the blue striped tie he'd selected. "What? No, I have to work, too. I have to meet Peter and Diana for lunch."

"Perfect. I'm sure Peter would love to see David."

"Yeah, but it's not exactly going to look professional if I bring him. Why can't he go to work with you?"

"Trust me, if I was just going in to the office, I'd suck it up and bring him. But I can't take him to this person's house. Forget professional—what if he got into something? I can barely take my eyes off him in our own home."

"What about a daycare? There have to be hundreds of them in Manhattan."

"Yeah, well, I've never used a daycare here, and I'm not going to drop David off at some random place without vetting first." She sighed, frustrated. "Look, you're the one who keeps saying you want to be involved in David's life. This is what being a parent _is_ , Neal. You don't just get to have fun play dates when it's convenient for you. You have to be responsible, even when it's really fucking inconvenient. And if I can't rely on you, there's no point in you trying to be involved."

"Hey, you can't take him to work, either. Glass houses? But okay, fine, I can try to take him."

He heard a small sigh of relief on the other end.

"Thank you. Can you meet me outside Sterling Bosch in say...forty-five minutes? I have to run there to pick up the file on this missing painting."

"All right, fine."

Neal hung up and looked down at his phone. He didn't have to meet Peter for an hour and a half. That should be enough time to pick up David.

He was pretty sure he could find somewhere safe to leave David for a while. June would certainly agree to it if she was home, and while Neal didn't want to take advantage, this might count as an emergency. But Sara might disapprove, or accuse him of dodging his fatherly duty. Even though _she_ used a full-time babysitter.

No, he'd just have to bring David along, and hope for the best.

He made it to Sterling Bosch by rushing, and was just in time to see Sara coming toward him from the other direction, pulling David along by the hand.

When they were closer, Neal saw that David was crying. His face was splotchy and red, and he had tears and snot running down his face.

"Don't leave me!" David said. "I wanna go to work with you!"

"You can't sweetie," Sara said, strained. "You get to spend the day with Daddy."

"But I wanna help you find the painting," David whined.

Sara crouched down. She adjusted the small Batman backpack David was wearing. "I know you do. But you can help me out by being really good for Daddy, okay?"

David didn't respond. Sara stood up and straightened her skirt.

"Okay," she said, "he should have everything he needs in his backpack. I packed some crackers in case he wants a snack. If there's any problem, call me."

"Hey, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. David and I will have fun."

"Just keep an eye on him, okay?"

"I won't let him out of my sight."

"All right. Ground rules—"

"Seriously? We're doing this?"

Sara ignored him. "One, no Mozzie. I don't want David coming home telling me about how the moon landing was faked. Two, don't assume that just because he's four, he's not going to pick up on what you're talking about. I don't want him exposed to anything he shouldn't know about."

Neal cocked his head. "Come on, Sara, you know I gave all that up. What do you think I'm going to do, plan a museum heist while David's playing two feet away?"

"Finally, I want to be able to reach you. If I can't get in touch with you, or you don't give him back to me at the end of the day, this will be the last time I let you take him."

"Really? You're the one who needed me last-minute, so let's go easy on the rules, okay? Everything's going to be fine. I've got this."

Sara took a deep breath. "Just call me if there's any trouble."

She crouched down and rubbed the tears off David's cheek. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and said, "Mommy has to go to work now, okay? Have fun with Daddy."

As Sara disappeared into the Sterling Bosch building, David continued to cry.

"Hey, buddy," Neal said in a soothing tone. "What's the matter?"

"Mommy was supposed to be with me today."

"I know she was. But you'll see her later. And you get to go to lunch with me. Won't that be fun?"

David didn't answer. Neal took his hand and started looking for a cab.

After a couple minutes, he flagged one down. He took off David's backpack and guided him into the backseat. As the driver started taking them in the direction of the restaurant, David tapped Neal on the arm.

"What's a Matisse?" he asked.

Neal looked down at him. "It's a painting. Henri Matisse was a painter, and someone stole one of his paintings."

"Did he call the police?"

"Who, Matisse? No, he lived a while ago. A lot of people have his paintings now. This one was in someone's home, and it sounds like someone broke in and took it."

"Why?"

"Well, because people like Matisse's work. And the person who took it is probably going to sell it."

"How long is it going to take Mom to find it?"

Neal frowned. "Well, I don't know. No one does. She might not be able to find it. But the FBI is going to be looking for it, too."

"Can we help?"

"You mean, look for the painting?"

David nodded.

"I don't know about that. But if we do see anything, we'll call Mom right away, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy David, and he spent the rest of the ride looking out the window.

In the end, Neal managed to get to the restaurant right on time. Before going inside, he decided to establish some ground rules of his own.

"I have to talk to Peter and Diana about some very important stuff. If you finish your lunch and get bored, you can do some coloring, okay? I saw that your mom packed a coloring book and crayons for you."

David nodded. Neal squeezed his shoulders and smiled.

Taking care of David wasn't so bad. Sara was clearly underestimating his parenting abilities.

Neal took David's hand and stepped into the café. He spotted Peter and Diana immediately, already seated at a round table by a window.

Smiling apologetically, Neal said, "Sara has to investigate a stolen Matisse. There's no one else to care for him."

Peter nodded. He looked down at David, cleared his throat, and said, "So, you're David, huh?"

"Uh-huh," David said.

"Your parents have told me a lot about you."

Peter had adopted a faux-cheerful tone that was supposed to sound friendly, but actually betrayed that he had no idea how to act around David.

"The Matisse, huh?" Diana said. "We have that case, too."

"I figured you might," Neal said.

Neal took David's backpack off for him and hung it on the back of one of the empty chairs. He helped David up and then took a seat beside him.

"I hope you don't mind me bringing him," Neal said. "You know how it is—this stuff comes up last minute."

"It's fine," Peter said. "It's good to finally see the little guy."

"He's not as little as he was the last time you saw him."

"No, that's for sure."

Neal studied the menu. He hadn't given much thought to what David would eat, and he doubted David could read well enough to parse the menu.

Leaning to the side, Neal asked, "What are you hungry for?"

David thought for a moment, and then said, "Lobster."

"I don't think they serve lobster here. They have soup and sandwiches. Would that be good?"

He helped David choose a tuna salad sandwich and a small bowl of vegetable soup. Then he hurriedly picked out a sandwich for himself.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Peter began to discuss business.

"Here's the deal," he said. "The Bureau is willing to take you on as consultant. It's not a huge time commitment. Honestly, there won't be as much work for you as there was before."

"Because they're going to have to pay me more than prison wages?"

"Right. But hey, it's a good thing, right? You'll have plenty of time for your business."

Neal couldn't argue with that. He'd wanted flexibility, after all.

Looking at Diana, Neal said, "And I take it you're going to be my boss?"

"We'll be working together, yeah."

"With my new responsibilities," Peter said, "I'm not as involved in individual cases anymore."

It would be different, not working so closely with Peter. But he liked Diana.

Their food arrived, and Neal took a minute to make sure David had everything he needed before returning his attention to Peter and Diana.

David was remarkably quiet, and Neal forgot any reservations he'd had about bringing him along. He had been quiet at that age, too.

The job with the FBI, it seemed, was a done deal. All there was for them to do was discuss the particulars.

"Will I get my own desk again?"

"We'll see," Peter said. "For now, we'll just have you set up in the boardroom when you come in."

After a few more minutes, David tugged on Neal's sleeve.

"Daddy, I'm full."

Neal glanced at David's plate. He hadn't finished his food, but that was hardly surprising considering it was an adult-sized meal.

"Good job. I just have a little more to talk about with Peter and Diana. Do you want to color?"

"Okay."

Neal reached into David's backpack and found a Batman coloring book and a box of crayons. The crayons were well-used, with blunted tips and peeling paper. Neal pushed David's plate aside and laid out the coloring book for him.

A few minutes later, while Peter was telling him about some forms he would have to fill out, David tugged on Neal's sleeve.

"Daddy, look what I did."

Neal broke his gaze away from Peter and glanced down at David.

"David," he said gently, "I'm kind of busy right now."

" _Look_."

Neal looked at the page David had been coloring. He'd given Catwoman purple skin. "Wow, that's great! I'll tell you what—why don't you show me more later?"

For a minute, David seemed to accept that. Then, he climbed up on his knees, leaned on the table, and turned to Peter.

"Are you a policeman?"

Peter looked at him and blinked. "I'm an FBI agent."

Neal touched David's shoulder. "That's like a policeman. You've heard of the FBI, right? Mommy's probably mentioned them. Now c'mon, sit down."

David ignored him. "Are you going to find the Matisse?"

"We're going to try."

"Do you have kids?"

"No," Peter said flatly.

"David," Neal said, "that's enough."

"Do you have a doggy?"

"Yes, I do. I have a dog."

David looked at Diana, and asked, "Do _you_ have a doggy?"

Diana looked unimpressed with David, and Neal decided it'd be best to intervene.

"All right, David, we need to do some work now. Why don't you do some more coloring so you can show me later?"

David reluctantly picked up a crayon and returned his attention to the coloring book. Diana took some forms out of her briefcase that Neal needed to fill out, and he cleared a spot on the table to work on them.

He was nearly finished when he noticed David fidgeting beside him.

"We're almost done," he said. "You just need to be patient for a few more minutes."

"But Daddy," David said in a hushed voice, "I have to _go_."

It took Neal a minute to realize what he meant. "Oh. You have to use the bathroom?"

David nodded frantically. "I have to go potty," he whispered.

Neal smiled at Peter and Diana and said, "Excuse me. We'll be just a minute."

He helped David off his chair and took his hand. They went to the back of the restaurant, where the restrooms were. It occurred to Neal that he had no idea if David needed help or supervision. He decided to follow David's lead and step in if he was needed.

As Neal led him into the men's room, David said, "Mom takes me to the other one."

"That's right. She can't take you into the men's room."

Thankfully, David seemed to know what he was doing. Neal stood by in case he was needed. When David was finished, Neal hoisted him up in front of the sink so he could wash his hands.

"There you go," Neal said as he set David down. "Now, let's dry your hands."

He grabbed a paper towel and when he turned around, David was gone. A few feet away, one of the stall doors slammed shut and Neal heard the latch close.

Neal walked over to the stall. "David? What are you doing in there?"

He could see David's feet under the door. The feet stamped up and down and David giggled.

"I know you're in there. You wanna open the door?"

David giggled again.

Neal gently pushed at the door, but it didn't budge. David didn't seem to be doing anything, and Neal considered ordering him to open the door. But he didn't want to be the bad guy—David was just trying to play, or maybe get attention. If he wanted to make himself look like an idiot, he could get down on his knees and see if he could reach under the door to undo the latch, but he didn't like that idea, either.

He decided to try another approach. "All right," he said casually, "you can stay in there. I'll see you back at the table."

He walked slowly to the door. David didn't react at first, and Neal started to worry that his bluff wasn't going to work. But then he heard the stall door swing open, and the sound of small running feet.

David ran up to him and wrapped his arms around Neal's leg. His hands were still damp, and the water soaked through to Neal's skin.

Neal squeezed his shoulder and took his hand. "C'mon. Let's get back to Peter and Diana."

David was cooperative for the remainder of the lunch, and Neal felt pretty proud of himself. It hadn't been the smoothest meeting he'd ever had, but it was far from the worst.

As they left the cafe, Neal checked his phone for messages from Sara. There was no word yet, so Neal nailed a cab and took David back to his place.

He considered taking David somewhere else. He wanted to start taking David to all the art museums that didn't have a restraining order against him. But he wasn't sure when Sara would get done with work, and David was still restless.

He took David back to his place. David bee-lined to the TV.

"Can I watch TV? I bet my favorite show is on."

"Sure."

As he turned on the TV, Neal immediately began to regret it. He'd been hoping to do some painting, and he preferred to work without background noise. But then he realized that simply having David around would be a distraction he wasn't used to. He'd never gone about his daily routine with David around before, and until now he hadn't quite grasped that being a father meant sacrificing some of his privacy and autonomy. He supposed he would just have to get used to background noise. It wasn't as though he hadn't managed before—prison was never quiet.

Neal helped David flip through the channels until David found the cartoon he wanted to watch. David sprawled out on the floor and took his Batman action figure out of his backpack.

Neal took off his shirt, leaving himself in his pants and undershirt. He started to get out his paints and brushes. He was about halfway done with a forgery of Monet's _Springtime_. Or rather, a reproduction. It never ceased to fascinate Neal how things had different names when they were legal. 'Reproduction' instead of 'forgery,' 'sting' instead of 'con.' Aside from the names, they weren't always so different.

Neal was just about to leave a brushstroke on the canvas when the TV blared behind him.

"Hey, can you turn that down?" Neal said, speaking over the noise.

"But I wanna see how loud it goes!"

"Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea. It might hurt our ears."

Neal was about to set down his brush, but then David turned the volume down. Neal found he could mostly ignore David's cartoon when it was at a sensible volume, and he set to work painting.

He'd been at it for a while when David came up beside him and said, "My show's over. Can I help you paint?"

Neal smiled. "Thanks. I don't know if I have anything for you to do right now, but if I do, I'll ask, okay?"

David nodded.

"Tell you what," Neal said, "how about we get you some paints of your own sometime? Would you like that?"

"Yeah! I like painting!"

Neal thought, but he didn't have anything on hand that would be good for David to use. He would have to see what non-toxic, child-friendly paint he could buy.

As he tried to think of an activity to suggest, a key turned in the front door. There was only one other person who had a key to Neal's apartment.

Mozzie came in and froze when he saw David.

"Oh. I didn't realize you had the spawn here today." He looked around cautiously. "Is Sara around?"

"Sara had to work unexpectedly." Neal set down his brush. To David, he said, "This is Mozzie."

Mozzie went straight over to David. Bending over with his hands on his knees, Mozzie said, "There's definitely a strong resemblance."

"Yeah, he's definitely my son," Neal said brusquely. "Can I have a word?"

Taking the hint, Mozzie followed Neal over to the kitchen.

"What is it?" Mozzie asked.

Neal put his hands in his pockets. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

"Look, Sara isn't crazy about the idea of you hanging around David. It's nothing personal—she's just wary right now. She's worried David is going to overhear stuff about, you know, activities that aren't exactly legal."

"What? Sara doesn't trust me around your kid? She doesn't think I'm capable of child-friendly conversation? And you agree with her?"

"No, I don't agree. I just don't want—"

"I'll tell you what this is: it's an injustice! She has no right to dictate your social life. Especially me—I'm his _godfather_!"

Neal clicked his tongue. "Actually, Moz, you're not."

"I should be! Who else is going to keep your son safe when the bomb hits?"

"The bomb? What is this, 1950? Look, I'm not gonna kick you out. I'm just saying be careful, okay? I don't want to mess this up."

"As if I would do anything to jeopardize your little custody battle."

"It's not a battle, but thank you."

They walked back into the living room. In their absence, David had grabbed the brush Neal had set aside. He was standing on his tip-toes, poking the canvas with the brush.

Neal rushed over. "No, no. Don't touch that, okay?" He took the brush from David and surveyed the damage. David had managed to paint a small streak across the bottom of the canvas, but it was fixable.

"I wanted to help," David said.

"I know, but you can't play with these paints. And I don't want you to get your clothes dirty."

Between David and Mozzie, Neal didn't expect to get any more painting done. He starting putting away his paints, and while he cleaned his brush in turpentine, Mozzie poured himself a glass of wine and sat down in front of the TV. David lay on the floor on his stomach and played with his Batman figure.

Neal was just finishing when his phone rang. He dried his hands and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Caffrey? This is Anne Ritter, Mr. Franklin's assistant?"

Franklin was a man Neal had done some authentication work for recently.

"Ah, yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm in your neighborhood, and I have some information on a piece that Mr. Franklin is thinking of purchasing. It's an eighteenth-century Indian statue. He was very pleased with your work last week, and he'd love it if you'd help him evaluate this piece's provenance."

Neal looked at David and Mozzie. "I'm not sure if today's the best time. Will you be around later, by any chance?"

"It'll just take a minute. Mr. Franklin gave me a check to give to you, and he'll pay you whatever else you charge him when the job is done."

A check. That sounded promising.

"Yeah, I can meet you really quick."

She gave him the name of a bar that was a few blocks away.

Neal hung up and grabbed his shirt. As he put it on, he said, "Hey, Moz, I need to step out for ten minutes. That was someone who wants to give me more work. Do you think you could keep an eye on David?"

Mozzie stuck out his chin like a petulant cat. "Well, _some_ people don't think I should be trusted around impressionable children. </i>

"C'mon, Moz. I know you can manage it."

Mozzie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like there's any doubt. Go! I'll hold down the fort."

Neal felt some misgivings, but reassured himself that he wouldn't be gone long enough for anything bad to happen.

He paused in front of the mirror on the living room wall to make sure he was presentable, and then hurried downstairs. He rushed to the bar, found Anne Ritter, and handled the deal as quickly as possible.

He rushed home with the file and the check, but in the end, it was still close to twenty minutes before he returned.

At first, when he stepped inside, everything appeared okay. Aside from the TV, everything was quiet.

A little too quiet.

Neal walked over to the sofa. Mozzie was stretched out, sleeping with his head propped up on the sofa arm. David was nowhere to be seen.

"Mozzie," Neal said. "Moz!"

The TV droned on in the background.

_"I was in some sort of secret government lab. I asked one of the doctors why they were doing this to me, and the guy said, 'When people are taken by the aliens, they come back different.' And I asked him, you know, was I still human? What did those aliens do to me? But he wouldn't say. Those government scientists did tests on me for three days, and then...."_

"Moz!" Neal said, more loudly. "Where's David?"

Mozzie jerked awake. As he sat up, Neal noticed something strange on his head. There were black scribbles on the top of his head that looked like they'd been drawn on with a marker. There was an uncapped Sharpie on the coffee table.

"Where's David?" Neal asked again.

Mozzie looked around. "I don't know. He was right here a minute ago."

Neal pointed to the TV. "And do you really think that's a good show for him to watch?"

"If you ask me, kids should know what the government is doing to cover up alien abductions."

Neal threw up his hands in exasperation. He went into the bathroom, but there was no sign of David in there, either. Next, he went into the master bedroom.

That was where he found David. He was jumping up and down on Neal's bed.

"Hey!" Neal said. "Don't do that! You're going to hurt yourself."

David barely even slowed down. Neal grabbed him in mid-jump and sat him down on the bed.

Neal put his hands on his hips. "Did you draw on Mozzie's head?"

"I wanted to give him some hair."

"You shouldn't draw on people like that. And I don't want you to use those markers, okay?"

David crossed his arms. "But it's fun."

From the living room, Mozzie cried out.

"Neal! Did you see what your son did to my head?"

Holding up a finger, Neal said. "No jumping, okay?"

He went out into the living room, where Mozzie was examining his head in the mirror.

"It'll be fine," Neal said. "I'm sure it'll wash off."

"He drew on my head! With a Sharpie!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep."

But as Neal said the words, a potential problem presented itself to Neal. Was David prone to doing things like this? Would he do it to Neal in the middle of the night? He wished there was a way to ask Sara without telling her what had happened.

Mozzie spent several minutes in the bathroom cleaning his head. When he emerged, he said he needed to go.

"Watching your son was an invigorating challenge, but if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"All right. Hey, could you do me a favor?"

"Does it involve more babysitting?"

"No. A Matisse was stolen. Sara's looking for it."

"Ah, and you're hoping to get into her good graces by helping her recover it?"

Neal shrugged. "David just doesn't like that she had to go into work unexpectedly."

"Well, I _did_ hear something this morning about Jesse Lambert looking for a buyer for a Matisse. He screwed me over a few months ago, so I don't mind if you rat him out."

"I'll let Sara know. Thanks."

It was another couple hours before Sara called to pick up David. When she asked how things had gone, Neal said it was fine—which was mostly true.

After hanging up, he went to tell David, who was doing more coloring.

"Hey, you mom's coming to pick you up. She's all done with work."

David's face brightened. "Is Hank still coming to our house tonight?"

"I don't know," Neal said with a frown. "She didn't say anything about that. Who's Hank? Is he a friend?"

"He's Mommy's boyfriend."

Neal froze. Sara had said nothing about having a boyfriend. She'd only been back in New York a few months—when could she have started a relationship? Perhaps David didn't understand.

"Does your mom see Hank a lot?"

"Yeah. They go out together, and sometimes I stay with Angel all night."

Overnight dates. That made things pretty clear.

Neal was inexplicably upset by this. It wasn't like he expected Sara not to date. She'd had a boyfriend a couple years ago, an artist who did mixed media work, and Neal had liked him. But the fact that Sara hadn't told him about this relationship made it feel insidious.

He planned to confront Sara, but by the time she actually arrived, he'd realized how futile it would be.

Even so, it was hard to mask his unhappiness when he saw her. Luckily, David demanded so much of her attention that she didn't seem to notice.

"Thanks again," she said to Neal. "You really did save the day."

Mustering up some cheerfulness, Neal said, "It was great seeing him."

"He didn't cause any trouble."

"No, he was great."

Sara helped David put his backpack on. As they turned to leave, Neal stopped her.

"By the way, I might have a lead on that Matisse. I called up some people, and it sounds like a fence named Jesse Lambert has put it on the market. Might be worth looking into."

"Thanks, I will."

As Sara led David out into the hall, Neal pushed down the urge to ask about Hank.

 

* * *

 

"You were right about Lambert," Sara said. "He did have the Matisse. FBI apprehended him this morning, will probably give him a deal if he tells them who took the painting."

"That's great," Neal said.

They were outside the Durant Academy. Today was an open house, and Neal had insisted on coming along.

He was glad to hear about the Matisse. And as far as fences went, Lambert had always been unreliable and dishonest. If Mozzie didn't feel bad about ratting him out, Neal saw no reason to.

"Mozzie told you about Lambert, didn't he?" Sara said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he came over that day. Even though I said not to let him."

Neal sighed. "You can't seriously expect me to turn away my friends. It was fine. He loved seeing David."

"Well, I don't know if I'd say it was 'fine.' Ever since you watched him, David's been talking about aliens and secret government labs."

Neal cringed. "That was just some show Mozzie turned on. It won't happen again. I promise. Look, you can't expect me to just not let Mozzie come over. He's used to practically living out of my place."

David was running around nearby. The school had lush, fenced-in front lawn.

"Yeah, I guess you guys are a package deal, huh?"

"Besides," Neal said, "You didn't tell me about Hank."

Sara froze. "Who told you about Hank?"

"David did."

Taking a deep breath, Sara said, "Look, I wasn't planning on meeting anyone. It just happened."

"I don't mind if you date. I just wish you'd been honest."

"I didn't lie. I never said I wasn't seeing anyone."

"But why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because," Sara said with a scoff, "it's none of your business."

"But it is. I want to know who's spending time around my son. Can I at least meet this guy?"

"I don't know. I guess so. Can we just drop it? It's not even that serious."

"Well, David's noticed that you spend the night with him. That's sounds pretty serious to me."

It came out more harshly than Neal intended. Sara didn't respond.

Before Neal could try to smooth things over, the front door of the school opened and someone came out to invite the parents inside.

The Durant Academy was one of the nicer preschools in Manhattan. While the children played in one of the classrooms, the visiting parents were led on a tour. Neal would have loved to spend his days in a place like this when he was David's age—surrounded by books and toys. Even though the cost was still an issue, he no longer felt as bothered that Sara had wanted help with the tuition. For David, it was worth it.

 

* * *

 

When the open house was over, Neal returned to Sara's house with her and David. He intended to say goodbye to David and then head home.

But there was already someone at the house when they got there. A man with sandy hair was sitting on the front porch. He was built like a linebacker.

"Hank?" Sara said with surprise.

The man—the infamous Hank—stood up and gave her a hug. "Hey, I hope it's okay I dropped by. I remember you said the open house would be done around three, and I thought I'd see if you wanted me to look at that sink in the upstairs bathroom."

"Y-yeah, that'd be great. Hank, this is Neal Caffrey. David's father."

Hank reached out and gave Neal a firm, almost bone-breaking handshake. "Oh yeah, great to meet you. I'm Hank Devereaux. Sara says you're some sort of consult?"

"I authenticate artwork. I haven't heard what you do."

"I'm a sports writer. New York Times."

Neal had to admit that was impressive. Even so, he couldn't see Sara with this man. He realized he'd imagined someone who, well, was more like _him_.

Realizing he'd suddenly become the third wheel, Neal said, "Well, I should head on. Good to meet you."

He hugged David goodbye and got back in the cab he'd just vacated.

 

* * *

 

True to Peter's word, Neal was able to start work at the FBI soon. It wasn't like it used to be. He didn't work there every day anymore, and they only called him in when they needed him. But it was nice to be back in his old environment, even if it had new faces and was missing some old ones.

One afternoon, a few weeks after meeting Hank, Neal came in to drop off a report on a Raphael forgery that Diana had requested from him.

Diana wasn't at her desk, so Neal dropped off the report beside her computer. Looking up, he saw Peter in what used to be Hughes's office. He was trying to hang a frame on the wall.

Neal went up and rapped on the door.

"Need a hand?"

Peter looked over his shoulder. "That'd be great. Tell me, does this look straight?"

Neal stepped into the office for a better look. Peter was hanging up his Harvard diploma.

"Looks good. A little higher on the left. There you go."

"Mind handing me that hammer? And a nail?"

There was a hammer and some nails on the desk. Peter had already made the desk his own. His favorite mug was sitting beside a picture of him and Elizabeth. Neal handed Peter the hammer and a nail, and Peter handed him the diploma to hold. Peter drove the nail into the wall and traded Neal the hammer for the diploma.

As he was positioning the frame on the nail, Peter said, "You know, Neal, I _can_ tell when you want something."

Of course he could.

"Sara has this new boyfriend...."

Peter clicked his tongue. "That's rough."

"It's not like I'm jealous."

"No, of course not," Peter said.

Maybe Neal was imagining it, but Peter's tone didn't sound that believing.

"Sara and I have been broken up for years. She's dated other guys. It's just...don't you think this is a little fast? She just moved back here."

"Sara has good judgment. I'm sure she's fine."

"Yeah, of course. But you know, there's David....I'd just feel better if I knew more about this Hank guy."

"Let me guess: you want me to look into him."

"It'd just take a few minutes."

"No. I'm not going to use FBI resources to investigate Sara's boyfriend. Can't you just google the guy?"

"I already have. The guy's perfect on paper. He played college football, and now he's a sports writer for the New York Times. He's divorced, and he's got a 14-year-old daughter he sees every other week."

"Sounds like an upstanding guy."

"I don't know. I can't exactly see Sara dating a football player."

"Oh yeah," Peter said dryly, "playing football is a real warning sign. Real serial killer material, there."

Neal cocked his head. "Come on. Just look into him?"

Peter threw up his hands. "All right, fine. I'll take a peek."

"His name's Harold Devereaux. Goes by Hank."

"Got it. Hey, since you're here, how'd you like to get together for lunch tomorrow? Around one-ish? You've been around the office, but I've barely had a chance to say hello to you."

"Sara's letting me have David for a while tomorrow. I was going to take him to Central park."

Peter frowned. "Ah. Well, what if we did lunch in the park? We could get some food and catch up while David plays."

That sounded doable. And Neal would have David for hours, so he could still have some one-on-one time before meeting Peter.

"Sounds great. I'll plan on it." Neal looked at his watch. "I should get going. I have to meet this guy at four o'clock to authenticate a painting."

"Hey, if it's a forgery, let us know. I could use a break from bureaucratic work."

Neal promised he would and headed for the elevator.

 

* * *

 

It was a nice day for the park. The early August heat had been stifling all week, but there was finally a cool front that lowered the temperature a few degrees.

After eating a quick lunch, Neal and Peter found a spot by the duck pond to talk while David played. David had brought a ball, but he'd mostly abandoned it in favor of running around with his Batman figure.

"I'm telling you, Neal, the guy's a saint. He totally checks out. Don't look so _disappointed_."

"I'm not disappointed. I just...I don't know about the guy. There's something off about him."

"You know what it is?" Peter said.

"What?"

"He's not like you. You still have some feelings for Sara, and seeing her with this Hank guy is making you feel like she doesn't need you anymore."

"I'm not jealous of Hank. I wasn't jealous when she was dating Kiyoshi."

"Kiyoshi was an artist. He was the same height as you, same build...."

Neal looked over to where David was playing. "Hey, don't go too close to the water," he called out.

To Peter, he said, "I don't have feelings for Sara. That's over."

Peter shrugged. "If you say so."

"Let's talk about you. How's the new job?"

"It's...it's all right. To be honest, I didn't realize how much I'd miss going out in the field. I'm trying to back off, let Diana do her thing. But it's tough."

"Yeah. You're probably not going to catch any more Neal Caffreys."

Peter chuckled. "Oh, trust me, there's only one Neal Caffrey."

"And you caught me. Twice."

"Aren't we up to three times, now?"

"My point is, you've done more than a lot of agents have."

The conversation was interrupted by David running over, crying loudly. He rushed over to Neal and tugged at his pant leg.

"Hey," Neal asked, concerned. "What is it?"

David gestured frantically at the duck pond. "It's Batman! He's in the water and the ducks have him!"

Neal looked at the pond and frowned. "You put Batman in the pond?"

David sobbed. "I wanted to make him swim. And then a duck came and tried to attack us. Batman's still in the water."

Neal's eyes widened. "David, I told you not to get too close to the water. It isn't safe."

But David wasn't hearing it. Clinging to Neal, he said, "Daddy, you have to get Batman."

Neal got up and walked to the edge of the pond. But there was no sign of David's toy.

Neal was still looking intently at the water a minute later, when Peter came up beside him.

"Neal..." Peter said, his voice going into a tone that Neal hadn't heard in years, "if you're thinking of going in that pond, don't. That water is filthy, and you're never going to find the toy."

Deep down, Neal knew he was right. It was hopeless. But David was still clinging to him, crying.

Slowly, Neal crouched down to his level. "David, I'm sorry, but I think Batman's gone."

"No! He can't be gone!"

"You shouldn't have put him in the pond," Peter said.

That only made David cry harder, and Neal glared at Peter.

"Listen," Neal said to David, "we have some time before you have to go back to your mom. We can go to the toy story and get you a new Batman. How about that?"

David shook his head. "No! It won't be the same!"

Neal frowned. He'd never been able to accept it when there wasn't anything he could do.

Nevertheless, he took David to a toy store after they left the park, hoping that getting a new action figure would cheer David up, anyway. But David remained stubbornly unenthused, even when Neal bought him a new Batman.

That night, Neal got on eBay and browsed through the thousands of Batman action figures for sale. Mozzie, who'd come over earlier in the evening, sat beside him at the table.

After what felt like a million pages of search results, Mozzie said, "That's it! That's the one David had."

Neal looked at the result Mozzie had indicated. "Are you sure?"

"Photographic memory, remember? I almost stepped on David's when he was over here. Got a pretty good look at it."

That was good enough for Neal. And at least the action figure was selling for cheap. It was only a year old. Neal placed the bid.

The action figure arrived a few days later. When Sara and David came over for lunch the following weekend, Neal presented it to him.

David's eyes brightened when he saw it. "You got Batman!" He took the toy from Neal and looked at it closely. "Is it really him?"

Neal hesitated. His instinct was to lie to David, but a bigger part of him thought he should try to avoid that, even if it was for a good cause.

"He's probably not the one the mean ducks took," Neal said, "but he's just like him."

To Neal's relief, David didn't look too disappointed by that. He hugged the toy and then hugged Neal.

Sara looked impressed. "How did you even find that thing? I looked online to see if they still sold them, but I couldn't even remember what it looked like."

Neal shrugged. "Honestly, I just lucked out."

 

* * *

 

Though Sara may have had her reservations, when David started preschool, she quickly allowed Neal to get into the routine of picking him up in the afternoon.

He suspected that practicality won out above anything else. David got out of school a few hours before she got off work, and this way, there was no need to arrange for childcare now that Angel had gone back to college.

So five days a week, Neal picked up David outside the Durant Academy. From there, they would go on outing, or go back to Neal's place.

He bought the best quality child-safe paints he could find, and would let David paint when he did.

On other days, they went to museums. Neal took him to the Met and the Guggenheim.

It wasn't always _easy_. When Neal took him to the Museum of Natural History, he turned his back for what seemed like only a second, and turned around to find that David had slipped past a barrier and was trying to climb on one of the massive fossils. He thought it best not to tell Sara about that.

But overall, they managed to slip into a routine that, while not effortless, at least felt natural.

One afternoon, David was more quiet than usual. Usually, he couldn't stop talking while Neal took him home and prepared a snack for him. But today, he just sat idly at the table while Neal made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Something wrong?" Neal asked.

"Were you really in prison?"

That was the last thing Neal was expecting. He'd expected to have a few years yet before David knew anything about that.

He stepped away from the counter and sat down at the table. "Did your mother tell you that?"

David shook his head. "I was in bed and I heard Mom and Hank fighting."

"They were fighting?" Neal asked with a frown.

"Uh huh. Hank said I shouldn't be with you because you were in prison."

Neal took a deep breath and pushed aside his hatred of Hank. "I did go to prison, but it was a long time ago, before you were born."

"Did you hurt someone?"

He pondered how much to tell him, and decided that David was too young to understand the finer points of bond forgery. "No. I stole from people. It was wrong, and I don't do it anymore."

"How long did they put you in prison?"

"Four years."

"Wow...."

"After a while, they let me out, but I had to stay here in New York for a few more years. That's why I couldn't go live with you and Mom when you were born."

"Is prison scary?"

"It can be. There are some bad people in prison, but there are some nice people, too."

"Then why doesn't Hank want me to come here?"

"Well, he doesn't know me too well. I bet once we get to know each other, he'll realize he was wrong. Okay?"

David nodded. "Okay."

Neal gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then went back to making the sandwich.

 

* * *

 

He didn't talk to Sara about what David had overheard for a few weeks. He was over at Sara's house for dinner, and this time, he was helping cook. Or rather, he was cooking while Sara stood by and occasionally helped.

"The other day," she said, "I heard some of the other parents whose kids are in David's class are giving their kids tutoring. To give them a head start for kindergarten and first grade. It didn't even occur to me to do anything like that with David."

"There's no need, is there? He can keep up with the work."

"Well, _I_ don't think there's any need. But I never realized how competitive preschool and kindergarten could be."

"I don't know, if you ask me, the Durant Academy just wants to be prestigious."

"I thought you liked the school."

Neal shrugged. "I do. There just seems to be a lot of work for preschool. David's already bright for his age. He probably doesn't need to spend as much time practicing the alphabet as they have him doing."

"Hm. Maybe you're right."

Neal was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. He handed the spoon over to Sara so that he could check on the pasta.

"A few weeks ago," he said, "David told me he overheard you want Hank fighting."

Sara whipped her head to look at him. "What?"

"I mean, I think it was just an argument. But he said he heard Hank say he shouldn't spend time with me. Because of my past."

Sara winced. "Damn it. I thought David was asleep. Neal, I'm sorry...."

"I'm not the one who was upset by it."

"I'll talk to David. And for the record, I told Hank he was out of line. He didn't mean anything. He had a bad divorce a few years ago, and he has a hard time trusting exes. He's just trying to protect me and David."

That didn't make Neal feel much better, but at least he knew Sara was on his side.

"You've been really good with David," she said. "Hank's problem is his problem."

 

* * *

 

David started planning for Halloween in early October. Sara explained to Neal that while she'd taken him trick or treating in England, it hadn't been as big of a deal there. Sara bought David an orange pumpkin pail for his candy, and David carried it with him for a full week.

One afternoon, Neal took David with him to the federal building after picking him up for school. Peter had a file for Neal to take home to study, and met them outside the building.

When David saw Peter, he held up his bucket and said, "Trick or treat!"

Peter started at him blankly. "It's not Halloween yet."

David held the bucket up higher. "Trick or treat!" he said, he voice more insistent.

With a sigh, Peter dug into his pocket. He tossed a quarter in David's pumpkin pail.

When Halloween finally came, Sara invited Neal to help her take David Trick or Treating in her neighborhood. David dressed up like Batman, and whined when Sara made him wear a jacket over his costume. But when he finally got outside, he was so excited that Neal had to hold his hand to keep him from running off.

At Thanksgiving, Neal suggested he make dinner at Sara's house. She had a larger kitchen, and Neal knew that Sara wouldn't be as confident about cooking a meal. Neal had never made a proper Thanksgiving dinner before. Growing up, his family hadn't had much. And Thanksgiving in prison was nothing to be thankful for.

Sara insisted on inviting Hank, whose daughter was spending Thanksgiving with his ex. It was a small concession to make. Hank arrived a half hour before the turkey was due to be done.

All the other cooking was complete. Neal stepped out of the kitchen to visit with David, who was watching the Macy's parade on TV.

When he headed back to the kitchen to check on the food, he heard hushed, angry voices inside. He paused outside the doorway and listened.

"I'm just saying," Hank said. "My daughter is with my ex today, but you don't see me trying to fit in at the table."

"Neal is _making us dinner_!" Sara hissed. "And even if he wasn't, this is my house, and he's welcome here."

Neal waited until things were quiet to enter. When he did, Sara and Hank were leaning against the counter, not looking at each other.

 

* * *

 

During the whole month of November, Neal focused on decorating David's bedroom. David had yet to use it, but when he did, Neal wanted it to be perfect. He furnished it, and selected bright blue and green bed sheets. Because he was renting, he couldn't make many permanent alterations to the room. But there was plenty he could do that wasn't permanent.

It was shortly after Thanksgiving when he got the perfect idea for what to do with the room. He bought large pieces of plywood, and talked Mozzie into letting him use one of his safe houses to carve the tops of the wooden sheets into the shape of a city skyline.

Next, he started painting.

In all, the project took a few weeks to complete. Then, it was just a matter of letting the paint dry and waiting for an opportunity.

A couple weeks before Christmas, Sara got called out of town unexpectedly.

"Sterling Bosch has a big client in France," she told him. "Guess who has to make an emergency trip over there?"

Neal commiserated, but it was hard not to be happy. With Sara going out of town, the only logical choice was to let David stay with him.

He went to Sara's house to see her off and pick up David. David clung to Sara as she tried to carry her suitcases out to the waiting cab.

"I don't want you to go," he said.

"I know, sweetie. But I'll be back in a few days."

"What if you miss Christmas?"

She kissed him on the head. "I won't, baby. Christmas isn't for a couple more weeks."

Neal's excitement wavered when he saw David's distress. After Sara's cab pulled away, Neal looked at the to-do list Sara had given him and tried to sound cheerful.

"Okay. Do you want to feed your fish before we go?"

Taking care of Mirabelle never failed to lift David's spirits. Since they would have to feed her again before Sara came home, at least Neal would have an excuse to bring David home for a bit. That might help if he got homesick. Sara had given him a spare key a month ago, just in case he ever needed it.

Neal helped David get up on a step stool. He handed him the fish food.

"Careful, now. You don't want to give her too much."

"Nope. Then she could die. Like Batman's parents."

David shook a little fish food in the tank.

"Good job," Neal said.

Neal grabbed David's bag and double-checked that the back door was locked.

When they got back to Neal's apartment, David grew apprehensive again.

"It'll be okay. You've spent the night without Mommy before, remember?"

"But it's almost Christmas. What if she's late?"

"She won't be. Trust me."

"But if she is, and I'm here, how will Santa find me."

"If you _are_ here, Santa will know. I'll tell him personally. How about that?"

That seemed to reassure David.

"Come on," Neal said. "I want to show you your bedroom. I've got a surprise for you."

He led David to the small second bedroom which, until now, David had barely seen or used. Now, the walls were lined with the plywood cut-outs, which had been painted to look like a city. Tiny people looked out windows and walked along the streets. The Joker was carrying bags of money out of a bank. And on one rooftop not far from David's bed, the dark outline of Batman stood against the night sky, watching over the city.

David's eyes widened. He went around the room examining each painted building before climbing up on the bed.

"It's Batman!"

"It's Batman. And look at this."

Neal switched off the overhead light and turned on the nightlight he'd installed in the corner. The light projected the Bat Signal onto David's ceiling.

David was transfixed by it. Neal knelt by the bed.

"Do you like it? I thought it could be like an early Christmas present."

"It's the best room ever!"

"I figured you might stay over again, and that you should have a good room. And when you come over after school, you can play in here."

Neal played in the room for the rest of the afternoon. Neal coaxed him out for lunch and dinner, and David came running out willingly when they got a call from Sara that evening, saying that she'd arrived safely in Paris.

Neal tried to tuck David into bed at eight o'clock, but David soon came out, complaining that he wasn't tired. It was Friday—no need to get up for school in the morning, and Neal decided it wouldn't hurt to let David stay up.

Neal worked on a painting, and David lay on the sofa, watching him. At some point, Neal looked over and realized that David had fallen asleep. He put aside his brush, gently picked David up, and put him back in his bed.

Much later, Neal was asleep in his own bed when he woke up to David's voice.

"Dad?"

Neal opened his eyes. The illuminate clock on the nightstand said it was three in the morning.

He cleared his throat. "What is it?"

"I'm scared. I miss Mommy."

"It's okay. Mommy will be home soon. And you've got Batman, remember?"

"I know. But I want you."

David's voice was too pathetic to send him away. Neal considered the possibility that he was being manipulated, but quickly decided that it didn't matter. He moved aside and patted the bed.

"C'mon."

David climbed up and lay down beside him.

"Can we call Mommy?" he asked.

Neal was about to say no, but then reconsidered. It would be later in Paris. Sara was likely up.

"We'll give it a try," he said.

He picked up his cell phone off the nightstand and dialed Sara's number. It went to voicemail.

"Hey," he said, "nothing's wrong. David just misses you. We thought we'd see if you were available to say hi. Talk to you later."

David was clearly disappointed, but Neal said, "It's okay. She'll call you as soon as she can."

It only took an hour for Sara to call back. Neal had dozed off again, but the vibration of his phone woke him up.

"Sorry I bothered you," he said.

"It's nothing. Is David all right?"

"He's sleeping now. He's fine."

"That's good. Don't wake him up. Let him rest."

"Is that Mommy?"

"Too late. He just woke up." He pulled the phone away from his ear and handed it to David, who was looking up at him groggily. "Say hi to your mom."

David talked to Sara for a minute before handing the phone over, and quickly fell back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Sara's flight was supposed to arrive at three o'clock on Monday afternoon. But snow hit Paris on Sunday night, and her flight was delayed.

She still hadn't come in when nigh came, and Neal had to send a disappointed David to bed.

It was almost eleven when there was a knock on the door. Neal hadn't gotten any news in hours, but he knew before he answered the door that it would be Sara.

"I'm sorry I didn't call," she said as she came in. She pulled her rolling luggage behind her. "My phone is dead from all the calls I made while I was stuck in Paris."

"Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

She sighed. "Aside from being stuck in an airport terminal for hours? Peachy. How's David?"

"He's sleeping now."

Sara pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "You know, if he's really resting, I can come back and pick him up in the morning. There's no need to wake him up."

The idea of having David for a few more hours was nice. But Neal couldn't bring himself to agree.

"He was really disappointed when you didn't come home on time. He's convinced you're going to miss Christmas. Even though I've told him it's a couple weeks away."

"I guess I should let him know I'm home then. I should go get him. I won't make him get dressed. We're going straight home, anyway."

Neal looked at Sara. She looked like she was ready to collapse. She could barely pull her luggage.

"I'll tell you what," Neal said. "Why don't you just stay here tonight? You have my bed." He saw some suspicion in her eyes, and quickly said, "I'll sleep on the sofa."

She sighed. "I wouldn't want you to do that. It's not a big deal to get a cab home."

"I don't mind. Really. I don't have to work tomorrow, anyway."

With a small smile, she said, "All right. Thank you. Let me go say hi to David."

She disappeared into his room. Neal took her luggage into the master bedroom, collected some of his own things, and then waited for her in the living room. She came out a minute later.

"You're right—he was happy to see me." She jerked her thumb toward David's room. "Did you do those murals?"

"Well, they're on plywood, but yeah. It was a little project I did on the side."

"Neal, that isn't 'little.' It's wonderful. David must love it."

She slipped off her shoes and walked over to the window, where Neal was standing. It was starting to snow, and the cold from outside came in through the glass.

"Are you sure Hank isn't going to mind you spending the night here?"

Sara was silent for a moment. When she spoke, she said, "Hank and I broke up, actually."

For a second, Neal didn't know what to say. He hadn't liked Hank, but right now he couldn't feel happy about the break-up. Instead, all he heard was how sad Sara sounded.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. It was the right thing to do. He started talking about marriage, and I just...realized we wanted different things. He was a lot more serious than I was, but I think he mainly just wanted to remarry." She paused, and added. "When I broke up with him, he accused me of still having feelings for you."

"What did you say?"

"I told him it didn't matter if I did or not."

It was a non-answer, but Neal didn't push her. "I'm still sorry. I know you liked him."

"He was nice. He really liked David. But I just couldn't do it. I was talking to one of my coworkers at Sterling Bosch, and she told me how lucky I was to have found a guy who was interested in me when I had a kid. I don't want that. I don't want to date just to find a stepfather for David. I'd rather be single than do that. I don't mind being single. I have a family. I have my job. It hasn't been easy, and I've made some mistakes, but I'm happy."

For a minute, they just stood silently together. When Neal spoke, he said, "I'm happy like this, too. But I still care about you."

Sara swallowed. "I still have feelings for you. But it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean? Of course it matters."

She shook her head. "No, it doesn't. See, I couldn't be with Hank because he just wants to be someone's husband. But with you, it's the opposite. I felt so good when I was with you, but we don't know if it could even last a year. And what would that do to David? We've made so much progress. Why undo it now? I don't want you to feel like this is the only way we can be a family, because it isn't."

"But it's not. I think I'm still in love with you."

Sara blinked away tears. She caressed Neal's cheek. "'Think' isn't enough. Not now."

But the next moment, she kissed him softly on the lips. As she leaned in closer, her tears spread onto his cheek.

"You really don't have to sleep on the sofa," she said. "It's not necessary."

But Neal realized something now. He realized that everything Sara had done, for good or bad, she'd done because she thought it was necessary. To protect David, to protect herself. And part of him, which he wanted desperately to silence, had to admit she might be right about them.

"I think it's better if I do," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said softly, "you're probably right." She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his shoulders. "I need to get some rest. I'm exhausted."

"Good night."

She turned away and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

In April, the earth finally thawed out, and Neal and Sara decided to plant a small herb garden in the corner of her miniscule back yard.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this," she said. "I don't even know what some of these herbs."

"Then you'll just have to let me come over to use them."

She laughed. "This whole thing is just for you, because you wish you could have a garden at your place."

It was true. At least at June's, there'd been some plants on the terrace. His current place afforded no gardening opportunities.

"I've been thinking," he said. "David's going to start kindergarten this year. What if we sent him somewhere else?"

"You mean, other than Durant?"

"To be honest, I can't manage Durant's tuition much more than you can. I'm getting work, and the FBI helps, but it's still a stretch. Unless I liquefy more assets—"

"That sounds like a bad idea...."

"It could be risky. I just think there are a lot of options that are more reasonable and just as good."

Sara nodded. "You know, you're probably right." She sat back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her face with a gloved hand. "This garden is going to be your job. Messing around in the dirt isn't my idea of a good time."

"You're still beautiful."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"I meant what I said, back in December," he said. "I still love you."

"You said you _think_ you love me. Big difference."

"Look, I thought for sure that what I had with Kate was the real thing. Now, I'm still not sure, and sometimes that kills me. Right now, I'm as sure about you as I could be about anyone. And if I thought you'd say yes, I ask you to marry me."

Sara shook her head. "I'm not going to say yes."

Neal looked away and resumed digging in the earth, but Sara put a hand on his arm.

Continuing, she said, "What did I say? That I didn't know if we could last a year? Let's just take things slow. Make sure we know what we want. And a year from now...we'll see what happens."

Neal set down his spade and took off his gloves. "All right," he said softly. "A year."

When Sara spoke again, her voice took on an authoritative tone. "But if we're going to do this, I think we should write up a custody agreement. And make it official in court."

Neal blinked. "But I thought things have been going great."

"I think so, too. But let's face it—we should know by now what a problem it can be. And we're going to be together, we can't have this come between us again."

She was right. Just like Elizabeth had been right almost a year ago. Neal had spent too much time believing that a formal agreement would mean that one of them had failed. But really, it was the only way they could move forward.

"All right," he said. "I can agree with that. Also, just for the record, you were right. It was good to take things slow. David can be more of a handful than I realized."

Sara smiled. "You know what he's been doing now? Playing pirate. He took a pair of my earrings and buried them somewhere. And now he can't remember where. At least they weren't valuable."

Behind them, David came running out the back door, carrying a plastic pail and shovel.

Neal decided to take inventory of his cufflinks when he got home.  



End file.
